Thomas Shelton

Open the door for what I have to say
This thought process needs oxygen to breath
These past ten years have been a river inflicted on myself
Every new wave that crashes carves new trenches deep whithin my chest
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I will address you with my lungs
And still expect a breath of air
Each spoken word's a different verse
Though sometimes sounds the same
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What's the purpose in purchase and sale
When we weather this storm through the wind and the hail
Set apart from this ship that's sinking and sifting the water
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Hands in pockets and shut my mouth
My judgement's been effected
Impacted and collapsed upon itself
I've lost what words to say from here
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It's funny how the person we thought we would be never happens
How it takes so long to figure out what's important to us
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In this ever expanding universe that constantly surprises us
We gently glide through a crack in a corner rooted to a platform of dust
Though some have jumped this organic and potential paradise of a planet
We have yet to escape this small town we call our solar system
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Walking an old dirt road
Kicking up sand into my eyes
Into the wind blowing
Buzzing and humming from all directions
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It's good to know that I mean nothing
People don't want to talk to me
I'm just a piece of a planet
A speck of dust stuck floating in the air
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God Smiled down on him
Forever the man thought he had been forgotten
But not at this moment
For this time he could feel a small light inside of him
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Between the middle line and the one slightly to the left is that same aura
The one that looks grey, but you know better
You can see past the grey to look upon its deep blue
Almost like a good friend or a healthy human face
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It's hard to understand
This life is more than just pain
Trials that test our temperament
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I witnessed myself become buried amongst the trees
I was the mountain and I was the sea
Incapable of recognizing myself I motioned
To all life for comfort and fame
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Everything we know about ourselves is defined by the characteristics we see in the world
We only know ourselves by comparison of these details
Without this observation of our surroundings we are lost
No more or less than anything else we could experience
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